One More Chance
by amberpire
Summary: I don't realize I'm crying until a tear hits the floor but I don't care, I only care about finding something, anything sharp enough to bring me the pain I'm asking for. ;Carly/Sam;


_**Sing something new, I have nothing left  
I can't face the dark without you  
There's nothing left to lose, the fight never ends  
I can't face the dark without you.**_

_"Without You" - Breaking Benjamin_

One More Chance

I hate her. I hate her. The kind of hate you can almost touch. The kind of hate that twists your gut and makes you feel like puking until all of your insides are a lump outside of you just so you can stab them with your bloodied fingernails. I hate her. I don't even remember where I am, I don't even hear the people around me screaming. All I can feel is my heart crashing against my ribs in the same tempo as the bass from the speaker behind me and all I can see Sam on the other side of the room with some blonde bimbo straddling her lap and her tongue down Sam's throat. I hate her. I want to take her stupid, bleach-blonde skull and smack it against the coffee table. I don't even care if I get thrown in jail because I hate. That. Dumb. Bitch.

Her name is Ashlee. She's some girl Sam has been gaga about that she met on Myspace a few months back. At first I had not been really worried about it - what were the odds that Ashlee lived close? Turns out she was less than a half hour away and even though this New Year's Eve party was just supposed to be friends from school, Sam had begged me to let Ashlee come. I almost said no just because I could, but I'm not mean. I'm really not, and I could never say no to Sam, now with those big, blue, puppy dog eyes that I adore.

And yeah, I knew Sam and Ashlee were having a thing or whatever. Really, I did. Sam practically lived at my house and spent hours on the phone talking to her. Before we would both fall off to sleep, Sam would use my cellphone to text Ashlee stupid, fluffy things like "i miss u babe, talk to u in the morning *mwah*" and it kind of made me sick to see Sam so head over heels for someone she had never met and it also made me angry because she always told me that that stuff was stupid and she would never be caught dead doing it. And here she was.

The minute she walked into the apartment with Sam's arm around her waist, I knew I hated her. She was Sam's height and so blonde it was almost white, and her eyes had too much black eyeliner around them and her lips were big and pink and there was a hoop piercing on the left side that looked infected. She was wearing this stupid, lime green tutu over jeans that looked like they were painted on her legs and too many plastic bracelets and a tight black and white striped shirt. I didn't get it, and it made me so fucking pissed when I watched Sam practically drool all over her. I just wanted to punch her square in the mouth.

Ashlee was so typical and boring and a big walking stereotype. She might as well have been wearing a flashing neon sign that said "Scene Kid" above her and I hated it. I hated her. I _hate_ her. Sam had talked shit about these kinds of girls for years. What was wrong with her? Was it because she desperate? Because when you see someone as perfect and beautiful as Sam wrapping herself around a girl like fucking dumb bitch Ashlee, you know there is desperation involved. Or was I becoming a lot more harsh than I realized? Maybe Ashlee was amazing on the inside and just had terrible taste in fashion. Or, maybe she was just a dumb fucking bitch that I hated. Yes, I like this better.

The image is burning in my mind. Sam. My Sam, sucking face with this horrendous stranger in my living room while our friends dance and scream and drink around us. Ashlee's hips are grinding into Sam's and Sam's hand is finding it's way between Ashlee's legs and even though I can't hear it, I see Ashlee's mouth open in a gasp before finding Sam's eager tongue again and sucking on it like it's candy and I hate her. I want to hate Sam, too, but I can't. I could never hate Sam, even seeing this. I just hate Ashlee, this girl I don't know, because it's easier to hate her.

Someone's touching me. I immediately move away from the hand snagging at my elbow and readjust myself so I can still see them, Sam and Ashlee. It's like they've become my universe, like if I don't watch this out would mean some terrible fate. I have to see it. I don't want to and the longer I watch the more hatred that boils in my veins and the more I feel like I'm going to burst into flame and bring them all down with me, but I have to watch.

"Carly?" I don't know who it is but I don't care, I don't care about them, because now Ashlee's hands are squeezing Sam's chest and Sam's liking it, she's really liking it, she's arching toward Ashlee's touch and her hands are on Ashlee's thighs and there's Gibby standing to the left watching them with his jaw dangling to his knees and he likes it, too. He likes this tragedy we're both watching and neither of us can look away but for entirely different reasons. Gibby is probably getting a hard-on and I am experiencing homicidal thoughts.

"Shay? Yo?" And then he's blocking my vision, Freddie. His too close, too close to me and practically yelling over the music. His arms are on my arms and his dark eyes are trying to find mine but I'm trying to crane my neck around him so I can keep watching. "Carly?" Freddie reaches up and touches my cheek and I instantly smack it away. "Carly, what the hell is your problem?" He's frowning at me, glancing over his shoulder at what I'm trying to watch. After a long moment of silence (_And Ashlee's hands are teasing the hem of Sam's shirt and Sam has her hand between Ashlee's legs and she's rubbing her there and I hate Ashlee, I hate her for feeling all of the things that I should be feeling, I should be in Sam's lap, not her_) Freddie turns back to me and raises his eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

I finally move my attention to him if only to try and reason with myself. The longer I watch, the more it will hurt but at the same time I feel like punishing myself for not taking all the chances that I had with Sam. I want to punish myself. I _need_ to punish myself.

"Let go of me," I snap and twist out of his grasp. He backs away and I'm shuffling past people again, shoving confused friends out of the way to try and see Sam and Ashlee again but with a blink they're gone. The chair they had been snogging in is empty and there's still an indent in the cushion where Sam had been sitting and it's like it's mocking me and it's saying _Too late._

I don't know where they are. I sweep my eyes over the dancing bodies of my friends and I even spot Spencer amongst the chaos, trying to protect his sculptures. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to disappear and never be found again. The nails of my left hand are digging into the soft flesh of my right wrist and that feels good and I want more. I _need_ more. Now. I'm shoving through the crowd again, practically sprinting up the stairs until the music and the voices are but a muffled whisper behind me, beckoning me to return, but I can't. I need relief. I need punishment. I need to find relief in punishment.

I storm down the hallway to my room, imaging Ashlee's face beneath my angry footfalls. Without looking up I swing into my room and stop dead and my heart has fallen to my toes and my jaw goes slack because Sam and Ashlee are half naked on my bed.

Sam jerks up first, in just her bra and jeans, and she's smirking at me like this is funny. Ashlee, now without her stupid fucking tutu and jeans, squeals like a little kid and curls her legs under my comforter - _my_ comforter, the one I will never be able to sleep in again. Sam's hand is under the blanket, tickling a giggling Ashlee who smiles sweetly at me and I hate her even more, I hate her with ever fiber of my being and I understand now why people want to kill other people. It all makes sense.

"Hey, Carls. Mind if we use your bed for the next few hours?" She wiggles her eyebrows at me and Ashlee laughs again, her arms snaking around Sam's midsection from behind and Ashlee is planting kissing on the curve of Sam's neck and I can smell her from clear across the room, an overpowering scent of cherries and bubblegum and I wonder what she taste like and why Sam can't seem to stop kissing her.

I don't say a word. Sam is just expecting me to allow them my bed until the party is over and hell, I'm her best friend, am I not? I'm supposed to give her these things because I love her and I want her to have a good time. Right? But the jealousy that's nearly strangling me is driving me to hate and hurt and I have to get out, I have to get out before I start screaming. I step out of the room and shut the door with a soft, gentle click even though I really want to throw it open and slam it and then toss my virgin fists on Ashlee's stupid, smiling, blushing face until it's a red, mangled lump. Instead I turn and march to the bathroom and shut the door with the force I wanted to close my own with and I throw the lock and crawl into the bathtub. This bathroom is mine and no one uses it but me and Sam and I'm careful to hide my secret weapon when she's over. Tucked behind my array of colorful soaps and shampoos is a razor and at first glance it's just an ordinary piece of plastic with a sliver of sharp metal but it's special, it's different, because it holds my blood stained on it.

I roll up my sleeve and don't hesitate to slice the blade over my wrist. The pain is clarity in this fog of hatred that's clouding me and I gasp in a sick twist of pleasure and guilt and I slash again and again and again until thick, maroon blood is coating my arm and my razor and dripping on my jeans and I sit there and watch myself bleed and I don't know how much time goes by but suddenly I can hear a chorus of voices below me screaming, "Ten!"

And I hate Ashlee.

"Nine!"

And I hate myself.

"Eight!"

And I want to hate Sam.

"Seven!"

But I can't.

"Six!"

I had my chance with Sam.

"Five!"

And I let it slip by.

"Four!"

She's with Ashlee.

"Three!"

And I'm alone.

"Two!"

I'll always be alone.

"One!"

~x~

It's our first day back from Christmas break and I'm falling asleep in Pre-Calculus. I think the only reason Mrs. Guzo doesn't beat me with her ruler is because I'm a generally good student and I'm not the only one struggling to get back in the groove. There's a boy practically snoring behind me.

I haven't slept for more than an hour since New Year's because I'm an idiot and keep replaying Sam and Ashlee in my bed over and over and I haven't slept there, I've spent the last four nights in the studio on a bean bag. I can barely go in my room because I can smell both of them, a mix between cheap gum and Sam's natural scent that doesn't even have a name - it's just Sam and it's wonderful but it's tainted by Ashlee and I can't stand it. It makes me sick and want to cut again but my arm is sore enough as it is. I'm a pussy cutter. I hate it.

I'm drifting off into the creeping blackness when I feel a hand on my shoulder. My eyes flutter open weakly and I'm alone - I slept straight through the bell. Freddie ducks into my vision with a much too cheery smile and I sigh, gathering my books and heaving myself to a stand as if I weigh a thousand pounds and my legs are going to buckle.

"What's wrong with you, Carly?" Freddie walks beside me out into the hall which is already empty. Lunch period. Everyone was hauling ass to the hot lunch line. Good thing I pack my lunch. Not that I'm going to eat it. I don't feel hungry at all. I know I must be, just like I know I'm tired, but it's like I'm not even aware of anything else except my pulsing, aching wrist that's throbbing beneath my sleeve. I'm numb to everything else except my punishment.

"Nothing," and I'm a terrible liar and he knows that by now. I stop at my locker and fail at the combination twice before I pull it open, dumping my books inside.

"Carly, I'm not an idiot." He tries to take my hand but I don't want him touching me, I don't want anyone touching me unless it's Sam. "Come on, Carly, talk to me." Freddie's dark eyes are concerned and I know I should tell him because he's one of the few people who wouldn't judge me. Freddie would do anything for me and I absently wish I didn't know Sam, I wish I wasn't irrevocably in love with her because loving Freddie would be so easy and so, so much better for me.

But I don't tell him. I lift my chin and shake my head, swinging my lunch bag over my uninjured wrist. "I'm fine, Freddie, just tired. Long break."

He doesn't look convinced but Freddie isn't one to try and press something out of me when I'm not ready to tell. He just nods and walks with me to the lunch room. Sam's already in line chatting up a storm like the social butterfly she is. Her eyes shift away from her current companion to me and Freddie. She waves eagerly and even though I'm hurting so bad I could cry and puke and cut my hand right off my arm, I can't help but mimic the gesture, though it lacks her sincerity.

Once seated, Freddie launches into a story about some girl in his History class who is a 'total babe' and he's thinking about asking her to the next dance. I'm only partly listening because my eyes are locked on Sam like a hawk, recording every move she makes like I'll die if I don't. She's laughing and swinging her curtain of dirty blonde hair over her shoulder.

"And she's not stupid, you know. That's important. She actually does her homework without cheating and she's kind of shy but I like that. It's cute. She asked to borrow my notes because she couldn't see the board and I think that's a sign that she digs me. Also..."

He drawls on, his voice becoming this monotonous buzz to my left. My only thoughts are on Sam, Sam, Sam, blissfully happy across the lunch room while she grabs her tray and zips through the food options, always grabbing the same thing. She doesn't even have to look because she knows exactly where the ham sandwiches are and her motions are fluid and rehearsed and then she's waving her friend away as she strolls over to me and Freddie who's still babbling even though I'm sure he knows I'm not listening. Maybe he's just talking to fill the silence because I don't have any words.

Sam swings into the vacant seat beside me. This is usual, for me to be between them. Freddi and Sam fight like cats and dogs and they break out into unnecessary whining if their knees touch and I don't mind being in the middle. It makes me feel complete and whole to have my best friends on either side of me, even though I can't look Sam in the eye because they're so damn beautiful I'll get lost in them and I can't look at her lips because I keep picturing Ashlee sucking on them like fish to glass and I can't look at her lap because Ashlee was grinding against it what feels like mere hours ago.

"You haven't been answering my calls, Cupcake," Sam says as she unwraps her sandwich and takes a large bite before offering it to me. She always offers even though I always decline.

And she's right. I have been avoiding her phone calls because I know what she's going to talk about and I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear about how awesome her make-out session in my room was with Ashlee. That's all she talks about. Ashlee. And now that they've finally met in person and have had an 'experience' that's all she'll keep talking about for the next few weeks.

I shake my head at the offer before I shrug. That's all I have to say.

"Well, anyway, thanks for letting Ash and I use your room." I hate how she calls Ashlee that. Ash. It makes me think of the boy from Pokemon and how much I used to adore it and every time Sam calls her that it slowly ruins my childhood. "Man, it was awesome, Carly. You don't even know. What do you geeks call it? Chemistry? Best. Night. Ever."

Freddie's smiling at her and saying something back but I'm not listening because my eyes are focused on Sam's wrist. Dangling from it is a silver bracelet, catching the dim lights of the cafeteria and shaking beneath is a Hello Kitty charm.

"What is that?" I'm interrupting Sam halfway through a sentence. She stops, looking at me and then following my gaze to her arm.

"Oh," she says, lifting the limb. Her other hand cradles the plastic face like it's something precious. "Ashlee gave it to me."

"You hate Hello Kitty." Now I couldn't like Hello Kitty either because Ashlee did. Lovely.

Sam frowns at me, running her thumb over the bracelet and holding her hand to her chest. "So? It was a gift from Ashlee."

"But you _hate_ Hello Kitty. You told me you wouldn't be caught dead wearing that kind of paraphernalia." I'm mad. I'm mad and I hate Ashlee and I'm trying so hard to hate Sam but really, really this is all my fault and I know it. I turn my accusing, angry eyes to Sam who's staring at me with the same flickering anger. "Who are you anymore?" I ask, my voice a lot softer than I had planned but it has the same effect. I had wanted them to cut Sam and it looks like she's about ready to bleed.

"Look," she says after a moment of swallowing hard. Her blue eyes narrow. "I don't know what your problem is with Ashlee, but I like her. So back the fuck off, Shay."

"I don't even recognize you," I blurt and my hatred for Ashlee is bubbling in my veins and I want to punch something cute and cuddly to make me feel better. "Ashlee turned you into a stranger."

"Guys-" Freddie attempts but is cut off by a glare from Sam.

"Shut it, Fredward." Swiveling her gaze back to me, her jaw tightens, the muscles flickering in her cheek. "I'm no stranger, Carly. So what if I'm wearing a fucking Hello Kitty bracelet? Yeah, I don't like Hello Kitty. Big deal. But it's from my girl. Friend." She leans closer and hearing her slap that title on someone as undeserving as Ashlee makes me want to cry. "Are you jealous, Carly? Are you jealous of my girlfriend? Because, you know." She lifts a hand and shoves a hard find into my chest, our eyes never leaving the others. "I gave you a chance. _You_ fucked up."

I don't know what to say because she's right. Of course she's right. I have no reason to hate Ashlee. I have no reason to be mad at Sam. She did give me a chance. She gave me chan_ces_ and I always let them slip by me because I was scared. Sam wasn't. Ashlee wasn't.

I don't deserve Sam. And it hurts to say this but Ashlee does. She took the initiative and I didn't and that's my fucking problem.

I stand. Sam's glaring at me, willing me to leave, and Freddie's watching me with sadness and confusion and he reaches for me, says my name, but I twitch out of his reach and take my lunch bag and storm through a huddle of freshman into the hallway. I need punishment, but my trusty razor is at home. Whatever. I'll find something. I have to. All this anger and guilt and bad feelings are building up in my veins and swimming in my blood and I have to get it out before I start screaming or crying or both. I just have to get it out of me.

I duck into the girl's bathroom because that's the only logical place to be. There's nowhere else I can go here. I don't have the comfort and safety of my bathroom, so I have to make due. Huddled about the mirror are a bunch of senior girls applying there make up. I don't know any of them but I stand and stare anyway until their conversation stops and they shuffle out all awkward-like. I check all of the stalls before I shut the bathroom door and swing the lock. The metal slides and shuts me in with an echo and that feels more tangible than anything else I've felt in what feels like years.

I need to cut. Right fucking now. I sink to my knees and dump the contents of my purse on the tile floor, ignoring the sinking feeling of the disgusting germs that I'm sitting in. I don't care. I rummage through everything I have - an eyeliner stick, lip gloss, chap stick, a pencil. I try that first, pressing it into my already swollen and pink wrist but I press so hard the lead breaks. I don't realize I'm crying until a tear hits the floor but I don't care, I only care about finding something, _anything_ sharp enough to bring me the pain I'm asking for. I find it in nail-clippers. Gasping hard like I'm running for my life, like I'm trying to beat the clock, I pinch the inside of my arm. The pain hurts so good and the skin breaks and though the wound is small it's enough. I pinch again and again, all around the initial injury and slowly my tears come to a halt and I don't know how long I've been in here but someone is punching the door and the bell rings.

I sniffle, hiding my wounds with my sleeve and scooping all of my junk into my purse before standing. I pause in front of the mirror and the punching continues, a female voice screaming about how badly she has to urinate and telling someone beside her to get a janitor. I stare at my puffy eyes, my blotchy cheeks, and I think even Ashlee looks better than me now. Anyone does.

And then I'm unlocking the door and shoving my way past the girls clogging the threshold. I am not polite Carly Shay anymore. I'm the cutter, the brooder, the girl drowning in her pain and regret.

~x~

I don't go to school the next day or the day after that and I'm on my third day of sulking on the couch watching brainless television and Sam has left me seven messages begging me to call her back and she came to the apartment yesterday but I threatened Spencer with destroying one of his sculptures if he let her even a foot inside. Freddie's called too but I'm ignoring him just as much as I am Sam and everyone else and I keep cutting and cutting and trying to think about anything else but remembering. But memories are creeping up on me when I least expect them and it's driving me insane. I can't look at anything without seeing a flash of Sam in my head. My eyes flicker to the computer on the bar by the kitchen and my heart squeezes because a memory is flooding me again and I can't do anything but allow it to play.

_"Oh, man, Carly, look at her!" Sam thrusts a finger at the computer screen. I peer over her shoulder at a picture of some movie star I've never heard of. But she is attractive, whoever she is. "Isn't she hot? Holy shit."_

_"Yeah," I agree, but I don't really care because no one is hotter to me than Sam Puckett. I fail to mention this. "I'm still an Emily Browning fan."_

_"She's got nice lips," Sam replies before twisting in the stool and grinning up at me. "They don't compete with yours, though."_

_I roll my eyes and laugh because Sam's been acting all flirty like this for a long time and it's cute and I like it and the butterflies in my stomach are flapping up a storm. "Oh, shush, you."_

_"Seriously," she says, standing and walking over to me. Her hands find my hips and her face is so close I can smell her breath and this isn't the first time she's done this but every time is like the first time and my heart is racing and my knees are like mashed potatoes and it's a miracle I can stand at all. "I would very much like to kiss them." She wiggles her eyebrows at me. It's not a secret that Sam likes me, like _that. _I know, and she knows I know._

_Knowing scares me._

_I swallow hard and when I talk my voice shakes. "I know." I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her until I can't feel my lips anymore, but I don't because I'm scared. I'm not sure what of but I just ... can't._

_"Come on, Carly. We're practically dating as it is. " Her hand slips under the back of my shirt and touches the bare skin there. "Be my girlfriend, Cupcake."_

_I want to nod and say yes and kiss her because I know I should and that feels right, doing that. But my stomach twists in fear and I shake my head, giving a nervous laugh and stepping out of her hands. She frowns and I turn away from the hurt. "You're silly," I tell her as I sweep myself on the stool and click away on the internet, feeling Sam's blue eyes burning holes in the back of my head and trying to ignore the voice in my head telling me I'm making a huge mistake._

I'm left crying when the memory fades away and I'm clutching my couch pillow to my chest like it's all I have left. She was so willing to jump that final line between friendship to girlfriend and I pushed her away every time because I was afraid. What if the relationship ended badly? Then I would lose her as a friend, too and it's not like I could avoid her for the last two years of high school. Well, I could, but it would be an awful two years. And that nagging voice is yelling at me again, _Isn't the risk worth it?!_

And it is. I know it is. But it's too late now. Sam's with Ashlee. I lost my chance. It's gone. There will never be Sam and Carly because I'm a pussy and an idiot and I deserve this guilt and pain and loneliness. I should welcome it with open arms and cradle it like a first born.

~x~

I have to call. My phone is balanced on my knee and I have to call her right now. If not for her sake, then for mine. I run my fingers over the keys. I have to call. Her number is in there. It's been saved as 'Lovey Lovexoxo' for months now. I feel like I'm going to puke. My stomach churns but it's probably from hunger than anything else. I don't remember the last time I've eaten.

Gulping air, I trudge down the contacts until I find her number and then smack the green button and press it to my ear before I can pussy out. It only rings twice before her voice picks up on the other end.

"Hello?"

I swallow. "Ashlee? Hi. This is Carly."

There's a long pause and the sound of shuffling in the background, and then a loud sigh. "Hi."

Oh man, I could slice the awkward with my razor. Cutter joke, not so funny? "Erm, hi. Uh, I'm calling because, uh, because of Sam."

"What about her?" She doesn't sound pleased - actually, she sounds like she's been crying, which really confuses me. I was supposed to be the one bawling her. I didn't have Sam. She did.

"Uhm. Well. I'm her best friend, you know, and I ... love her." In more ways than one. "And I just - I'm not threatening you, so don't take this as a threat, just, uh. Please, please don't hurt her. She's ..." I drifted for a moment, trying to find the right word. I realized then that there were no words for Sam. They had yet to be invented. "Amazing," I settled with, though it felt like an understatement. "And she doesn't deserve it. Also, I ... I just wanted to wish the best for you both."

Ashlee snorted into the phone. I blinked. "You don't have to worry about that," she said. "Sam broke up with me."

My jaw might as well have hit the floor. "What?"

"Yeah, yesterday. Said she couldn't try and love me when she was already in love with someone else." She sighed again. "I have a feeling it's you. She said your name that night at the party when we were in your room? Yeah. That was nice." She laughed dryly. "She said she was sorry and I tried not to think about it but ... yeah. She's in love with you. Big time."

I struggled for speech. "Are you - are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said, a big fat lie and I could tell. "Well, no. But I'll get over it. Sam's, you know. Amazing, like you said."

"Understatement of the year."

"Don't I know it."

"Look," I said, suddenly feeling sorry for this girl. She had really liked Sam and I had hated her for no reason. I felt like a stupid cutting bitch. "I'm sorry. Really, I am."

"Don't be. You just go and get her, Carly. I tried to make her happy, but I think we both know she'll only settle for you."

~x~

I was having one of those movie moments, where the music is loud and climatic and everyone in the theatre starts crying. First off, I was in love with Samantha Puckett. I said this about ten times in front of the mirror just to feel it roll off of my tongue. To taste the truth in it.

I pulled Spencer from his room and told him I needed to see a counselor for cutting. He cried, but he hugged me, and watched as I threw away my razor. And my nail-clippers for good measure.

I know this bravery won't last long, so I have to take full advantage of it. I turned to my still weeping brother. "Spence? I need your car."

And in a blur I was out the door with his keys and a pounding heart and this time I was against the clock - I had to go. I had to do this now before I became Cowardly Carly again. I whipped into traffic and barreled down the street. I could only hope Sam was actually at home. If she wasn't, I would lose. She didn't have a cell, so I was only relying on fate here. Swinging into the parking lot of her apartment building, I stormed inside and jogged up the stairs, jumping over random tricycles and other discarded toys, through tumbles of garbage. "Seventeen, seventeen," I muttered, swinging my fist on the door as soon as I had reached it. My heart was in my throat, strangling me but I had to do this. I couldn't live in my guilt anymore, I couldn't, I had to face Sam-

The door swung open. Sam blinked at me, in sweatpants and a tank top and her hair was a frizzy mess but I didn't care. She was still a goddess to me. She had always been a goddess. _My_ goddess.

"Sam," I said and I was breathing heavily and my chest burned. "Sam, I talked to Ashlee and she told me what happened and I came to-"

"Will you get in here?" She reached out, grabbing my arm and pulling me into her apartment. The kitchen light flickered above us as she shut the door, whirling around to face me. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if she was protecting the most vital part of herself. As if she didn't want me to be anywhere near it.

I deserve that.

"You have five seconds to explain yourself," she demanded.

"I love you," I said, because well, that was the first thing that came to my mind and it pretty much summed up why I was here. Sam stared at me blankly before dropping her arms - I thought she was going to hug me - but she only opened the door and pointed into the hallway.

"Get out," she said, looking away from me.

"No, Sam, really, please listen to me. I was scared, I was really scared of ... this." I spread my hands between us like the pointless space was what I meant. "I was scared and I regret every time I turned you down. It took me some time to realize it but I do love you. And I can't... I can't go on pretending I don't anymore. Please." I reached out, touching her arm. She flinched away, but shut the door.

"Carly." She spoke to the floor, her bare feet idly kicking back and forth. "You hurt me."

"I know," I said, instinctively touching my victim wrist. "And I'm sorry. And I'm not expecting anything. I don't deserve it." I let my gaze fall as well because my bravery was slipping away from me. "I just wanted to make sure you knew. I had to tell you."

I stepped forward. I was done. I had done what I had set out here to do and if she decided I wasn't worthy of what I had already rejected so many times, then I had to deal with that. My hands curled around the doorknob and she shifted forward so I could step out. She didn't stop me. I walked away, down the hall, over the trash and toys, down the stairs, out into the drizzling Seattle twilight. I didn't deserve Sam. But I had tried.

I tried too late.

"Carly!"

I turned. Sam's bare feet were slapping on the damp sidewalk and even though she knew I wasn't walking away anymore, she crashed into me with arms of steel like if she let go I would float away. "One more chance," she panted before her lips crushed against mine.

And I didn't hate Ashlee, and I wasn't mad at Sam, and I wasn't mad at myself. I would no longer need a blade to take away my guilt because there was none. I didn't need relief in punishment. There was relief with Sam.

I had one more shot. One more chance to make this right, to make this into what it should have been for a long time.

_**"I can't face the dark without you..."**_

~x~

**AN: **Whew! That was a lot longer than I planned! Hope you all enjoy it. I don't own iCarly. Reviews are appreciated!


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